Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
EVEREST
Cove is still curled beside me, her leg draped over mine, her fingers tangled with the edge of the sheet like she’s afraid it might all disappear if she lets go. Her hair is a wild halo against the pillow, her lips parted, her breathing slow. Peaceful.
God, she’s beautiful like this.
Not just in the obvious way, but in the way that devastates me. In the way that makes me feel like I’ve survived something just by being allowed to wake up next to her.
I don't move. Not yet. I just watch her. Memorize the way her lashes flutter every so often, how her skin still smells faintly like vanilla, sex, and tears. There’s a tenderness in the air, the kind that only comes from digging through pain to find something worth keeping.
Eventually, her eyes crack open.
She blinks up at me, drowsy and raw, and gives a shy smile that’s all kinds of unfair. “You’re staring.”
“Can you blame me?” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “You’re the best view I’ve ever had.”
She exhales a soft laugh, but it fades quickly. Her fingers tighten around the sheet again. “Everest… do you think we’re sick?”
The question slices through the calm.
I sit up slowly, propping myself on one elbow. “No,” I say, firm. “We were just... unlucky.”
She stares at the ceiling for a long time, like she’s reading words that aren’t there. “Feels like the universe played a dirty joke. Like our parents wrote a tragedy and we stumbled into the sequel without knowing the script.”
I reach for her hand. She lets me take it. “I don’t regret it,” I say. “Not any of it.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “Not even now? Now that we know?”
I shake my head. “We didn’t grow up together. We didn’t plan this. We didn’t know. We were just two people trying to find something real in a world full of filters and fakes. And we found it. That’s not sick, Cove. That’s rare.”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her thumb traces slow circles on the back of my hand.
“Lorna said something yesterday,” she murmurs. “She said that we’re not wrong, that what we feel is only wrong ‘cause others made it that way. She also said I need to figure out if I still want you…and I do.”
I swallow hard.
“But what if someone finds out? What if we tell Tanner? Or worse, our parents? Do we just cut them out of our lives forever? Where do we go from here?”
I squeeze her fingers. “We can’t keep sneaking around. We didn’t do anything wrong on purpose, but now... now, we know.”
She nods. “My dad’s not going to help. He already said he’s out—wants nothing to do with your mom or that side of the family.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “But my mom’s still in my life. And Tanner... he’s basically my brother. He deserves the truth.”
Cove sits up slowly, the sheet slipping down her spine, revealing the curve of her back. “So... what? We just tell them? We say "hey, surprise, we accidentally fell in love with our cousin—please clap?”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I mean, when you put it that way...”
Her smile falters, and something hardens in her expression. “They’re going to judge us.”
I nod. “Some will.”
“Some won’t understand.”
“Most won’t.”
She looks at me then, eyes wide and uncertain. “But do we tell them anyway?”
I sit up, mirror her posture, our knees brushing. “If we don’t... we live like this. In secret. Always wondering who’ll find out. Always worrying about slipping up. We’d be happy, yeah—but scared too. We don’t have to tell strangers but I think the important people in our lives deserve to know.”
“And if we do tell them?”
“Maybe we lose people,” I say honestly. “But maybe the ones who stay... are the ones who matter.”
She swallows hard. “Do you really think that’s possible?”
“I think we’ve already lived through the worst part,” I whisper. “The discovery. The panic. The heartbreak. We survived that. Now, it’s about the aftermath. And how we want to live in it.”
Her eyes search mine. “You’re saying we stop hiding.”
“I’m saying I want a life where I don’t have to act like I didn’t love you before I knew. And where I don’t have to pretend I don’t still love you now that I do.”
She exhales, slow and shaky. “Okay. Then what’s the plan?”
I reach for her hand, squeeze it tight. “One person at a time. Together. No more lies. No more sneaking. We figure it out.”
“You think your mom will forgive us?”
I hesitate. “I don’t know. But I’d rather lose her for telling the truth than lose you for hiding it.”
Tears pool in her eyes, and she lets out a breathless laugh. “Fuck, you’re dramatic.”
“Only for you.”
She leans in, presses her forehead to mine. “So we’re really doing this.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “We’re really doing this.”
We fall back into the pillows, tangled and tired and terrified—but not alone. Not anymore.
We don’t have all the answers. Not yet.
But we’re going to find them.
Together.